"You're stalking him," Spike repeated, rolling his eyes. "Reading everything that he writes, responding or not, is stalking. Do you lot have a dictionary here? Do I need to Google the term for you?" Spike was sort of an expert at stalking himself. He did it to Buffy all the time. Less so lately since she seemed more eager to come and visit him than she used to be, but there was a time when he had followed her around quietly in the dark without saying a single world. Lingering outside her house, writing poetry about her in a candlelit room with nothing but - right. Off topic. "And if you're not willing to block him out, you're a moron."
Leaning against the counter, Spike fought off the temptation to snatch her computer away and post under her name. It'd be funny. But then he'd be causing the demon more chaos than she needed and he supposed most would highly frown upon that.
"I think you do it because you believe he's gonna get over it," Spike said, stretching his arms back a bit. "Sorry, sweetheart, life doesn't work that way. 'Specially not with stubborn asses like those Winchesters seem to be. You either need to turn and walk away now or spend the rest of your days in misery. Waiting day after day, hoping he'll decide that it was all just one big old misunderstanding. It's quite sad, really. And it also makes me think of you as a really stupid puppy getting ready to be handed off by their owner to the pound." He shrugged, examining the herbs that Ruby happened to be tinkering with. "Oh well."